


A Bridge Across Winter

by Sneakend



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas Angst, Christmas Fluff, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Holiday Fic Exchange, Jewish Wanda Maximoff, Knitting, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-03 08:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneakend/pseuds/Sneakend
Summary: Wanda's first Christmas since Pietro's death is spent together with Clint and Natasha.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SinginInTheRaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinginInTheRaine/gifts).



> This is my fill for the DC/Marvel Holiday Bingo Exchange. SinginInTheRaine asked for: Natasha Romanoff/any female, curled up by the fire(place)
> 
> I tried to fit in some of the things you listed in your likes. I hope you don't mind Wanda POV or that Clint wanted to tag along for the ride. I apologise for no smut but this already got long (not to mention late). Happy New Year 2019!

Wanda stirs in her sleep, waking slowly to the stuffy, unfamiliar room. She kicks at the blanket to free herself from its sweltering embrace before settling down again. The smell of wood smoke and dust permeates the air and underneath the blankets, another body shifts, burrowing deeper into the mattress. _Pietro_ , she thinks contently and sighs, ready to fall back to sleep. It takes a moment for her sluggish mind to catch up to reality and, like every morning, she accepts the crushing reminder that her twin is dead. Gone and buried. That alone is enough to shake any semblance of peace from her mind and she knows from experience that trying to chase after sleep would be pointless.

She sits up and peels back the covers far enough to determine that yes, the other occupant in the bed is Clint. In all his shirtless, drunken - or probably hungover by now - glory. She lets the blanket flop back over his head and hopes he isn't entirely naked under there. There's only so many surprises she's prepared to tolerate this early in the morning. She scoots over to the window and cracks it open. A breath of crisp winter air hits her in the face and she welcomes it, closing her eyes.

There's a slight noise from across the room as the door swings on its hinges. Wanda turns her head to greet Natasha who is somehow radiant even in her polka dotted pyjama pants and an oversized Hawkeye hoodie. There's a smile on Natasha's face aimed at Wanda - or perhaps at Clint - but Wanda selfishly hopes it's for her alone. She smiles back and tries to make it look genuine despite knowing she is an intruder in this house that so strongly feels like home. Not hers, of course, but someone's. Wanda can read it in the little knick-knacks strewn across every available surface, in the framed pictures that record years of shared joy and, most of all, in the way both Natasha and Clint had just seemed to click in place when they walked through the door the night before. She shouldn't be here, not when even in the midst of all the dust and neglect this place clearly holds so many memories for these two.

The truth is, she hadn't been thrilled about spending Christmas at the New Avengers Facility and when Clint had asked her she had jumped on the opportunity to have some company over the holidays. Not that this particular holiday means much to her - or to their employers for that matter; they aren't usually very liberal with vacation time. Somehow Clint and Natasha have swung a whole week of free time to visit their cabin, though. Who'd have even guessed they actually owned a cabin? Certainly not Wanda.

She'd not been sure she wanted an audience for her first Christmas without Pietro but had also thought some company would help distract her from her constant misery. She's already suffered through her first solitary Hanukkah, bawling in the privacy of her own room, forgotten by everyone. Christmas holds less special shared memories but even for non-Christians the festival carries the air of a family event. Family that she no longer has. Hence she's now reassessing her decision to come along. There's silent grief between these two, loss that she's perhaps been too unobservant to notice before but cannot ignore now that it's been transmuted into an almost palpable existence. She wonders if maybe putting all three of them together in a confined space isn't just going to worsen everyone's pensive mood.

"He never made it back last night," Natasha says and nods towards Clint's sleeping form.

"It's alright, I'm sure he just mistook the bed," Wanda reassures her. She doesn't mind, not really. Clint is the only one of the Avengers she would feel comfortable calling a friend. _Perhaps the only one in the whole world_ , she thinks, only slightly bitterly. She feels protective of him on a level she can't quite understand herself. Maybe her being has been so tightly woven to Pietro's from birth that she can't function alone, but unconsciously latches on to the closest suitable target for support and affection.

"Let him sleep. We can take care of breakfast," Natasha says, looking thoughtful. "In fact, it's probably better if we don't trust him with anything more complicated than a coffee maker." 

Wanda follows her downstairs to the kitchen like a lost puppy and hates herself for feeling so out of her element. She's no inexperienced rookie or a socially awkward teenager. She has seen war, been a part of it, lost people to it. Yet here she feels out of place and no amount of superpowers is going to change the fact that this isn't her country. Or that she doesn't know how to act naturally in this kind of setting. When was the last time she did something domestic like this, cooking breakfast with a friend? _Are they even friends? Acquaintances?_ She stares at Natasha and wonders how she would classify their relationship.

"We actually haven't got anything to eat," Natasha says, producing one measly can of baked beans out of the cupboard and swiftly disposing of it in the trash can. "It's expired."

"Clint would probably eat it anyway," Wanda responds. It’s more just to say something, anything than to crack a joke, but her comment gains a fond smile from Natasha nevertheless.

"He definitely would."

"He only bought chips and booze yesterday," Wanda says. She doesn't really want to talk about Clint, but he's a safe subject. Her and Natasha haven't exactly bonded before this and much as she wishes she didn't need a buffer between them, she also doesn't feel entirely safe without one.

"Because he's an idiot," Natasha sighs, but in her mouth, the insult sounds more like an endearment. For a moment Wanda wishes she'd insult her, too, and then banishes the thought from her mind. _Calm down_ , she admonishes herself while shifting her weight anxiously from one foot to the other.

Natasha eyes her critically for a moment from across the counter before reaching out to tuck a strand of Wanda's hair behind her ear. "You don't have to be so tense. We're all friends here."

"I've never really had friends before," Wanda says without thinking, but realizes it's true. She had never had the time or need for them because with Pietro she'd never been alone. "Is that sad? I have superpowers but I don't know a thing about friendship." She lets out a nervous laugh.

"You can learn," Natasha says. "I did."

And just like that, Wanda feels herself relax just a little. She doesn't know a lot about Natasha, but maybe they aren't so different after all. She only has a vague idea about her, mostly gathered from rumors and what little information Clint has felt comfortable sharing, but one thing she's sure about: like her, Natasha has lived another life before this and it has not been an easy one. Yet here she stands, confident and graceful, supporting Wanda through her sorry insecurities. So maybe there's hope for her too. She wants to say something cheesy like _I'll follow your lead_ , but can only muster out a thank you.

Natasha pats her shoulder once before turning away. "So how about we deal with the food situation then?"

 

* * *

 

They leave Clint a note in case he wakes up while they're gone and then head to the grocery store. It's not too far but the roads are covered in snow and they take it slow even though Wanda has no doubt Natasha could manage a much higher speed in worse conditions. The store, of course, is completely packed.

"So many people," Wanda sighs mournfully.

"I'll protect you," Natasha says and slides her arm in the crook of Wanda's elbow, "so you won't get lost."

Wanda feels her face heat up but doesn't pull away. She wouldn't have expected this level of intimacy from Natasha, who has always seemed more aloof, but maybe she's misjudged her. Or maybe Natasha just thinks Wanda's special. _As if._

"Let's get the food first and then the other stuff," Natasha says, already heading for the fresh produce section.

"Other stuff?"

"I forgot to buy a card to go with Clint's gift. I hope they've got ugly ones."

"Oh, I don't have a gift for either of you." Wanda realizes with mild horror. Who forgets to get gifts on Christmas? She may not normally put much stock in it but it’s still the polite thing to do. Maybe Natasha really will call her an idiot.

Natasha simply shakes her head. "Don't worry about it. I know Clint invited you at the last possible minute."

"He doesn't have a gift for me, does he?"

"I'm sure he does. But he won't be expecting anything back." Natasha stops to pick up some apples, then adds, "plus you don't know how bad he's at giving gifts, you'll regret it if you put in an effort for him."

"He's been really good to me. I'd feel awful not giving anything back!" Wanda may not have always done the morally right thing and she's the first to admit her social skills leave something to be desired but her parents did teach her manners. With what little time they had before they died, that is.

"If it's important to you, we'll find something," Natasha reassures her.

They gather enough food for a few days. It's mostly stuff that's easy to cook and not particularly festive. Still, a lot of it is new and exotic to Wanda. Hot Pockets? Pop-Tarts? Not a thing where she comes from. The gift situation, however, turns out to be somewhat more complicated. While there's no shortage of options, all of it feels entirely impersonal and screams _minimal effort_.

"This is hopeless. It can't look like I didn't put any thought into it," Wanda says, flinging yet another shampoo gift set back among the hundred other identical ones.

Natasha shrugs but looks amused by her struggle. "It's just a Christmas gift."

"You know him better than anyone. What does he even like?" _Please don't say shampoo_.

"Neither of us has ever had much time for hobbies…" Natasha says, pondering. "He's really bad at making practically anything. Once I let him pick a recipe and cooked it for him? He likes people spending time on him."

 _Now, that I can do_ , Wanda thinks, relieved. "Knitting!" She exclaims to Natasha. "I'll make him a hat. Or a scarf? What do you think?"

"You can do that?" Natasha asks, sounding both impressed and a little dubious.

"Can’t everyone?" In Sokovia it had been basically a national pastime.

Natasha gives her a somber look. "I can’t."

 _Ah, damn_. Wanda lets out an awkward cough. She had not meant imply that knitting was a skill so easy any fool should know it. _You're so capable and I'm an idiot_ , she tries to project towards Natasha without actually using her powers. "I could teach you. Someday," she offers out loud.

Natasha doesn't turn to look at her this time. Instead, she places her hand lightly on Wanda's where she's pushing the cart and causes her heart to skip a beat. "I'd like that," she says warmly before adding, "Clint likes purple."

At the yarn aisle, Wanda picks out a few different shades of purple and then stands there for a long while trying to decide what colors would suit Natasha best. Her hand won't stop tingling before they're almost all the way back to the cabin and even then the warm feeling in her chest remains.

 

* * *

 

Wanda has only just settled on the couch in the living room, almost sitting on her bag of yarn in order to guard her gift from Clint's curious eyes, when he stumbles into the room in a mess of mismatched winter clothes and also missing a hat.

"Want to join us?" He smirks at her. "We're getting a Christmas tree!"

"I don't know about that…" she can't help a little spark of joy when she realizes Clint genuinely wants to include her in their activity, but this is also her only chance of some alone time. She may be a fast knitter, but even she can't finish two projects in mere minutes.

She's still thinking of a way to let Clint down gently when, thankfully, Natasha comes to her rescue. "She's got another project, Clint, stop harassing her."

"I'm not? I'm trying to include her in this wholesome Christmas tradition."

Wanda smiles at him. "Much appreciated. But I think I'll stay in this time."

"Next year I won't take no for an answer though," Clint huffs, mock insulted, and stalks down the hallway.

"Next year?" She mouths at Natasha who grins back at her.

"You do realize Clint has practically adopted you, right? He does that. You'll be lucky to spend a holiday alone ever again."

"I don't think I'd want to," she admits. "Not if you're there too."

"Where else would I be?" Natasha wonders, a small smile playing at her lips. "Going out now, see you soon."

"Wait! Is that all you're going to wear?"

"Something wrong with it?" Natasha glances down at herself as if to determine what Wanda finds so offensive about her outfit.

"Yes? You'll freeze your ears off. Wait here."

Wanda dashes up the stairs fast enough that she's reminded of Pietro. She scolds herself for getting emotional over something as silly as that but takes a moment to steady herself against the wall and wills herself not to cry. She hasn't done that in days but now she realizes that in getting so immersed in Natasha she hasn't thought about Pietro in hours. Is that how it goes? She'll gradually forget to keep him in her thoughts and maybe one day he'll slip out entirely. She digs into her palm with her nails and without a warning two of the framed photos crash to the floor in a mess of broken shards. Did she do that? She closes her eyes and reaches into her own mind. The grief makes her powers volatile even now. Maybe she should ask Clint to share some of his vodka with her? Natasha's probably got some too. But maybe that'd just make things worse. She takes a deep, steadying breath and moves to dig into her suitcase. She's never had a wardrobe that could be described as excessive but she's adult enough to have invested in some proper winter clothing. She pulls out her favorite hat (knitted, store bought, burgundy), schools her face in front of a mirror and returns downstairs with the hat, though this time at a significantly more leisurely pace.

Natasha's waiting where she left her and shows no sign of having heard the commotion upstairs. Wanda steps close and pulls the hat tightly over Natasha’s head, making sure it covers her ears. They are really nice ears too, and she might have vested interest in keeping them healthy and intact. "Perfect! Now you may go."

"Oh, I may?" Natasha lifts her brow playfully. She leans in close enough to send shivers down Wanda's spine and whispers, "thank you," before placing a quick peck on her cheek and dashing out of the door, leaving Wanda gaping after her. Before the door swings shut she can hear Clint exclaim, "where did you get a hat? I'm cold too!"

Wanda retakes her seat on the couch and traces the warm spot on her cheek. She doesn't want to move her hand, not even to start her knitting. Luckily, she doesn't need hands for what she has in mind.

 

* * *

 

It takes Wanda a few tries to synchronize everything since she's never done this before. But with determination and enough concentration, she's able to work on two separate projects at the same time. It's almost meditative, watching her balls of yarn float in the air, the knitting needles going _click-click-click_ in the otherwise silent room. At first, she pauses one of the projects when adding stitches to the other but soon she's able to do even that simultaneously. After a while, the rest of the world fades away and she drifts off to a place where she doesn’t have to think. It’s finally a loud bang at the door that breaks her out of it and almost causes her to drop her work. She gathers her stuff and sprints into her room just in time to hide her project. There's a lot of dragging and shuffling downstairs and when she peers over the banister, she can see Clint and Natasha have dragged in piles of snow with their massive Christmas tree.

Clint waves up at her. "Hey! Wanda! Do you love Nat more than me? Why'd you give your hat to her?"

She knows he's joking, but sets her face on a stern expression. "If you want me to love you, you better clean up all that snow before it melts. Or there'll be no gifts tonight."

Clint's whole face lights up at her response and he bounces towards the kitchen, presumably to look for cleaning supplies. "Nat! There'll be gifts tonight!"

Wanda retreats back to her room to put the finishing touches on her gifts. She'd rather not involve herself in setting up the tree, it just doesn't seem like a task that requires three people floundering around in the same room. Besides, she really needs to find something to wrap the gifts in before either of the others decides to come check up on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For angst reasons I live permanently in a universe where Coulson is dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank ZepysGirl for brainstorming Christmas gift ideas with me and asterisk for teaching me about Jewish traditions and food (even if I didn't manage to fit too much of that in this fic). ♡

Wanda gets back in the living room just in time to watch Natasha drag two baskets full of decorations from the corner of the room and start untangling the lights that have had at least a year to tie themselves into a thousand knots as all cables are wont to do.

"How long have you had this place? You're so well prepared for Christmas." Somehow she hasn’t had these two pegged as Christmas people but here they are, going through so much trouble just for the sake of festive ambiance that’ll have to be torn down in a few days. She'd worry they're doing it for her benefit, but some of the decorations look antique, not like something one could just pick up at Target.

Natasha glances up from the tangled mess on her lap. "A few years now. It wasn't ours at first, but Coulson…" her voice drifts off to silence.

"Coulson?" Wanda thinks she's heard the name before, but can't remember the exact context.

"You know? Clint's…" another sentence left unfinished. Natasha looks serious for a moment, then gets up. "I'll talk to Clint," she says and disappears in the kitchen, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Wanda stares after her, but it soon becomes clear she isn't coming back anytime soon so she picks up the Christmas lights and sets out to do something useful. Her powers prove handy in this area too, the lights straightening out in a matter of minutes under her guidance. _This is probably not what HYDRA intended my powers for_ , she muses and decides it’s not a bad thing at all, being the exact opposite of what HYDRA intended. Even if it means her skills are reduced to helping speed up the chores. She sits on the floor and sorts out the tinsel too as she waits.

It takes a while, but eventually, Natasha does return with a plate full of cookies. "Compliments to the chef."

"Clint made these?"

"Well, he opened the box. He's working on something else though." Natasha sits on the floor next to her and crosses her legs. She bites a head off a cookie vaguely shaped like an animal and stares solemnly into the unlit fireplace. "I really thought he would've told you by now."

"Told me what?" Wanda asks.

"About Coulson."

"He's dead, isn't he?" She's finally placed the name, on the list of SHIELD personnel deceased in the attack on the helicarrier. She's been debriefed on the important stuff, at least superficially - her security clearance still pending. "We don't have to talk about it. I don't want to talk about, you know… Pietro."

"He said it's alright for me to tell you," Natasha says and after a small pause adds, "he's not going to do it himself."

"Coulson's the reason Clint was upset last night?" Wanda hadn't felt it appropriate to pry.

Natasha hums in agreement. "It's always worse when we come here. But it also forces him to confront it, I think it helps."

"What does he think?" Wanda wonders. She's confronted with her own loss often enough without going looking for reminders.

"I'm not forcing him to come. But your bed? That’s where they used to sleep. He hasn't been back in there since it happened. Not until last night."

"He was drunk,” Wanda says, hesitant to read too much into Clint’s behavior the night before. Natasha may be a little too optimistic about Clint’s progress, she thinks, and also slightly in denial about how well she’s processing Coulson’s death herself. _Since it happened_ , she'd just said. Not _since he died_.

"True. But he's drunk every Christmas now," Natasha sighs.

"Were they like…" Wanda starts but drifts off, unsure what term to use and suddenly worried about fraternization policies for her own selfish reasons.

"Married?" Natasha fills in for her.

"Yeah?"

"They were. Happily," Natasha says with a wistful smile.

"In Sokovia they couldn't have been," Wanda says with some bitterness.

Natasha leans into her lightly, reassuringly. "But you're here now. It may not be perfect but some things _are_ better here." And maybe that's something both of them can take comfort in. It’s not the time or the place to ask but Wanda would bet that this is another aspect of herself that Natasha’s been forced to feel insecure about, to lock in a box and deny. They both come from places that don’t look too kindly on nice, beautiful things unless they can twist them to serve their own ends.

 _I can never go home. But at least I’m free to marry whoever I want_ , she thinks, unsure whether such a trade-off is worth much. She's always had other priorities but with Natasha right there she can maybe learn to appreciate the value of having that choice.

Natasha picks up a tinsel garland from the floor, wraps some of it around her arm and then dangles the remainder in Wanda’s face to get her attention. "Want to help me decorate the tree?"

 

* * *

 

Even with two people – and Wanda’s ability to reach even the highest branches without difficulty - it takes a while to decorate the tree to Natasha's satisfaction. Clint leaves them to it but joins them in the room and sets up a fire in the fireplace. Finally, they pile the gifts under the tree. Although they haven't had time to clean the place properly, the atmosphere is surprisingly cozy, especially with the appetizing smell wafting from the kitchen.

Wanda inhales the homely smell deeply. "What are you baking? I thought Natasha said you didn't know how to cook."

Clint aims a glare at Natasha who crosses her arms defensively. "I may have exaggerated a little bit."

"It was one time, Nat! One accidental fire doesn't define me!"

Natasha levels a gaze at him. "Oh, is that burning I smell?"

And just like Clint's gone, to ensure the survival of his mystery project.

"Should we go help?" Despite Clint’s insistence, she feels slightly worried.

"Let him do it, it's good for his confidence," Natasha says, waving a dismissive hand.

Wanda hovers around the kitchen door just in case, but it doesn’t take long for Clint to emerge carrying a tray topped with a familiar looking golden brown bread.

"Here it is," he announces proudly.

"Is that challah?" Wanda asks astonished, her hand hovering close to the tray but not touching. "You made this yourself?"

"Well, sure. I mean, Natasha helped with the ingredients and maybe I watched a YouTube video. Or two."

"But… why?"

Natasha steps next to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. "We felt bad that we didn't do anything for Hanukkah. You've been in New York all December and we wanted to invite you here for Christmas, but… the things you care about are important to us, too."

"Oh. That's… that's… thank you. I didn't really think about it, with Pietro gone…" She hadn’t had the energy or the will to celebrate anything, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t touched by the gesture. It means a lot, knowing that someone cares about where she comes from and doesn’t expect her to change herself and entirely adapt to some new, strange way of life in America. However, she is curious about one thing. "But, Clint - why did you choose to make this exactly?"

Clint scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "It looked really good in the pictures?"

"So basically you made something _you_ wanted to eat," Natasha concludes.

"Did I commit some kind of faux pas?" Clint asks, a confused look on his face.

Natasha gasps, faking astonishment. "How do you even know that word?"

"Haha. You need to be nicer, Nat. It's Christmas."

Natasha spreads her hands and looks pointedly at the tree. "The gifts are already here."

"Speaking of which… what's the point of putting all the gifts under the tree if we're opening them right away?" Wanda jumps into the conversation. It's not as if any of them are setting the scene for that perfect Instagram shot.

"I guess it's just something you do." Clint shrugs.

"Usually we open them in the morning," Natasha says.

"Oh, right. America." Wanda hadn't thought about that. "We can wait till tomorrow. I really don't mind."

"Nope," Clint dismisses the idea promptly. "We'll do it the European way. As long as you open mine first!"

His almost childlike enthusiasm makes Wanda smile. "Will do." She doesn't think Natasha will mind. She knows what Clint’s like, after all.

They leave the challah to cool and set up camp on the floor by the fireplace with all the gifts. Wanda picks up the one from Clint - a rectangular package hastily wrapped in an old newspaper. She unwraps it carefully regardless.

"It's a… movie?" A cartoon, based on the cover. _Balto_ , it says in bold red letters. It's not a movie she's heard of before, but hopefully, she'll be able to watch it on her laptop.

"It's Clint's favorite Christmas movie. He's given that DVD to everyone he knows," Natasha whispers to her conspiratorially.

"No, I haven't!"

"Name one person," Natasha tells him, looking smug.

Clint actually stops to think for a while before offering an answer, "Pepper?"

"Nice try. As I recall, you addressed that gift to both Tony and her."

"It's a great movie…"

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Nothing to get you in the holiday spirit like children suffering from diphtheria."

"It has dogs, though," Clint protests.

"Thank you, Clint. I love it," Wanda assures him and genuinely means it too. It’s not like she’s had many opportunities to just relax and watch a lot of movies in her life. Clint’s tastes may lean towards juvenile but that might actually be a nice change of pace. She wouldn’t mind balancing the violence and death in her life with something less bleak.

"Really?"

"Really."

"My turn now," Natasha says and nudges her gift closer to Wanda.

This one is noticeably neater and is wrapped in actual wrapping paper. There’s even a ribbon around it, Wanda marvels. She wants to open it so that nothing gets ripped, but Natasha’s bow making skills prove too much for her. She’s forced to cut the ribbon off with a knife that Natasha produces for her out of nowhere with alarming adroitness.

"Aww, Nat… you stole my idea for next year," Clint whines after he sees Wanda shake open the Black Widow hoodie from her second gift.

"I know," Natasha says, clearly pleased with herself. "Clint's go-to second year Christmas gift is a Hawkeye hoodie, but I beat him to it," she adds for Wanda's benefit.

"Why are you being like this?" Clint pouts as her.

"Maybe I'd rather see her in my shirt than yours," Natasha says with a wink in Wanda's direction.

Thanks to the fireplace the room is more than warm enough, but Wanda pulls on her new shirt anyway, partly because she’s eager to hide her blushing face for a few seconds. She's not sure how she feels about the whole fan merchandise business for superheroes but she can't dispute that it’s a well-made product, the interior so soft she hopes she never has to wash it and ruin the feel.

"How does it look?" She asks, standing up and turning around. "Do you think I'll have my own someday?"

"I'd count on it. You already have two fans right here," Clint says with a smirk.

"I'd wear it," Natasha says with a nod. ”And let you take it off.”

Clint looks from Wanda to Natasha. "Are you guys flirting? Save it for later, I haven't even opened my gifts yet."

"Ladies first," Natasha declares and rips open Clint’s gift in record time. "Wow, Clint, impressive. Just what I always wanted. All seasons of Dog Cops? Thanks."

"Now we can watch it when I visit you."

Natasha gives him a calculating look. "I might just watch it with Wanda."

"You wouldn't dare!" Clint exclaims in mock offense.

"Shh," Natasha hushes him while already working on opening Wanda's gift. She pulls out a knitted hat very close to Wanda's in color, although decorated with a few wooden buttons. Those Wanda had taken from her own dress, annoyed at the simplicity of the pattern she had used. She could always replace those when she got back to civilization.

"I hope you like it. It's the best I could come up with," she says and, because plans for next year have already been semi-established, adds, "I'll do better next year."

Natasha stares at her wide-eyed. " _Like_ it? I'm never taking it off." She pulls the hat on and turns to Clint. "How do I look?"

"What's the word I'm looking for? Oh yeah, bitchin'," Clint says, holding both thumbs up before tearing into his first present. It's a hat in the same pattern as Natasha's gift but its three different shades of garish purple make it look like something a child might've made.

Clint inspects it carefully before also pulling it on. "Did you make both of these?"

Wanda nods, self-conscious despite herself, worried Clint will just pretend to like it or be offended she made Natasha's much prettier.

Her worries are proven unfounded though as Clint scoots over and gives her a hug. "Thanks. It's the best."

It's a nice hug, one you could get lost in and Wanda clings to him for a while before letting go.

"One last gift to go," Natasha reminds them and Clint picks it up from the floor. It's just an envelope and Clint weighs it in his hand critically. "No coins this year?"

Natasha shakes her head. "Nope."

"Ooh, a gift card to a massage? Thanks, Nat," he says, then hesitates, "did we agree on no gag gifts this year?"

"Nah, I just like to keep you on your toes."

Clint narrows his eyes at her. "Just wait till your birthday-"

“And before you ask, yes, they’re vetted. Yes, I’ll be there anyway so you can actually relax.”

"You're so good to me," he sighs dramatically before standing up. "Who wants eggnog?"

 

* * *

 

Clint's about two glasses into the eggnog when Natasha conjures up one last gift and hands it to him. Whatever that is about, Wanda is not sure, but it makes Clint hit the bottle even harder. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take long for him to drop off, snoring on the couch and snuggling his Christmas present.

"It's time for this one to go to bed," Natasha announces and helps Clint into a sitting position.

He flails awake sluggishly, not exactly what you'd expect from a trained special agent. "Huh? Nat?"

"Who else?" Natasha pats him lightly on the head. "Come on, I'll tuck you in."

"My gift," Clint mumbles while pushing himself off the couch.

Natasha stuffs the gift under her armpit and then hovers next to Clint who looks more than a little unstable. "I'll bring it up. You concentrate on the stairs."

"Yeah. That was some good eggnog though. Phil would've loved it."

"Sure he would've."

Wanda listens to their steps on the stairs but doesn't get up from the floor. She worries at the sleeve of her new shirt and wonders if she should use this opportunity to get rid of her untouched eggnog. Natasha takes her time returning so she wanders into the kitchen and immerses herself in the process of making hot cocoa. She distractedly nibbles on a piece of challah while waiting for the milk to heat up and scribbles down her mother’s recipe for the bread from memory. She leaves it where Clint will find it – for future reference.

She's just pouring the cocoa into mugs when Natasha steps into the room. "I put him in your bed, he was a bit upset."

"It's fine," Wanda says and turns her head to flash a smile in Natasha's direction. "I'll just share with you tonight."

"Good."

Wanda quietly hands her one of the mugs - the one with the text _Butterfly Cremation Garden_ stamped on it, she's decided not to ask - and they return to the living room.

Natasha sits down on the couch, blowing air into her cocoa to cool it down. Wanda perches on the other end of the couch, unwilling to impede on Natasha's personal space even though she's less worried about that now than this morning.

Natasha lifts her eyes to Wanda's and offers a private smile. She transfers her mug to her right hand and extends the left one towards Wanda. "C'mere."

Wanda scoots over, close enough that their thighs almost touch. She peers at Natasha through the curtain of her own hair that refuses to stay tucked behind her ear. Natasha quirks an eyebrow at her, takes a sip from her mug and pulls Wanda closer to her so that Wanda's leaning into her side. She leaves her arm around Wanda's shoulders, warm and almost possessive.

Cautious of burning her tongue, Wanda cradles her mug in both hands. "So… Clint's extra gift?" She's a little bit curious about it, especially since it seemed to have put him in such a melancholy mood.

Natasha takes a long drink from her mug before answering. "That one's from Coulson."

"Even though he's been dead for years," Wanda says, astounded.

In what could be an absent-minded - but knowing Natasha, probably isn't - gesture Natasha curls a strand of Wanda's hair around her finger, then unfurls it. "The thing you should know about him is that he was extremely organized, a true perfectionist. Whereas other people may have a plan B, he had plans all the way to the end of the alphabet and then some."

"It's like he knew he was going to die," Wanda muses.

"In this job, don't we all? He was prepared for that eventuality, as am I," Natasha says casually as if the possibility of her own death doesn't bother her one bit.

"And his priority was arranging an ongoing Christmas gift delivery for Clint?"

"His priority was Clint," Natasha stresses. "But of course most of the responsibility fell on me."

Whether she means gift giving or Clint in general, Wanda is not sure. She turns her face up towards Natasha to catch her eyes. "I think it's sweet, what he did. And you helping him out. Having something left of Pietro… I don't know if it'd help but I'd take it in a heartbeat."

"You could tell me about him," Natasha offers. "If you think it'd help."

"I will," she says. "But not today. I want tonight to be nice." She stares intently into the still blazing fireplace. She's not entirely sure which of them was the last to add wood to the fire, but it's going strong and she's glad of not having to leave Natasha's side to attend to it. She snuggles a bit closer to Natasha's side and drinks her cooling cocoa.

Natasha places her head lightly against Wanda's. "Tonight _is_ nice. I don't think anything could change that. But there'll be more days."

"It was just me and him for so long," Wanda blurts out. "What if I'll always keep trying to replace him?" Really, she can hardly remember the time when her life hadn't been shaped to fit just two people, her and Pietro. Does she even have space for more than one in addition to herself? Or did Pietro leave behind such a void that she needs at least two people to fill it? What if she's here just to fill in the third slot in Natasha and Clint's family? A slot that's been vacated when they lost Coulson. It's like fitting together pieces from different puzzles, she reckons. They may fit but the result will be an unpredictable mess.

"People can't be replaced," Natasha says, her voice serious. "At least not those who really matter."

"You didn't ask me here because it feels empty with just the two of you? Or because you think I'd be sad on my own?" She knows she sounds insecure. Yet it may be better to clear the air now than let her doubts fester. After everything, trust doesn't come easy to any of them. All of the Avengers are damaged in their own way so maybe there’s something that ties her to the rest of the group, even if she’ll never see herself as a hero.

"I don't do pity," Natasha scoffs. "And frankly, I think Clint would be insulted if you implied that he did either. You could never be what Coulson was to us. You're a different person. But different doesn't equal less."

"Okay," she says, but her voice wavers.

"Hey," Natasha says and softly touches Wanda's cheek in order to turn her face towards her. "Do you think me and Coulson ever did _this_?"

She leans in, gradually enough that Wanda would have time to back out if she wished to. She doesn't. She angles her head and meets Natasha in a slow kiss that mostly tastes of chocolate. It's quite tame as far as kisses go, or so Wanda imagines. It's not like she's ever done this before. Still, she can feel her heart rate pick up, everything else fading to the background. The urge to slip her hand into Natasha's hair and pull her even closer is overwhelming, but she's still cradling a half-empty mug. But so is Natasha, except she seems to have forgotten about it as she dips it just a tiny bit too far trying to get closer to Wanda, some of the lukewarm liquid spilling onto Wanda’s lap. She breaks the kiss with a soft gasp.

"God, I hope not," Wanda finally breathes out in response to Natasha's earlier question. There's no paper so she pulls a sock off her own foot and uses it to dab at the wet spot on her jeans. Her face feels hot, but she tries to compose herself. She's just kissed Natasha. Natasha! And she wants to do it again. "What about you and Clint though?"

"Jealous?" Natasha leans close enough to whisper into her ear.

"Maybe." She pretends to think about it for a bit. "He _is_ very good looking."

"So you do have a sense of humor. I like it."

Wanda widens her eyes in feigned horror. "You're just going to agree with me about Clint?"

Natasha shrugs. "I do have eyes."

They settle down on the couch, leaving their mugs on the floor. Natasha drapes herself all over Wanda and buries her face into her neck. A bit awkwardly, Wanda wraps an arm around her, and then another, forming a protective circle. She’s not sure what she’s protecting them from, maybe the world in general, but it feels safe and right.

Natasha edges her head so that her chin rests on Wanda’s shoulder. ”I’m glad you came along.”

It’s amazing how she can appear so cool and collected in public yet isn’t afraid to be like this, soft and open, when she wants. It could be a role, Wanda isn’t naive enough to ignore the firsthand experience she has with Natasha’s acting skills. Still, she isn’t willing to risk being the person who assumes that just because the famed Black Widow is capable of faking feelings she doesn’t have any genuine ones.

”So am I. I don’t like thinking about you here, all alone.” Because Clint hardly counts as company in his current state and she can’t stand to think about all the nights that Natasha’s spent alone in this house, supporting Clint in his grief and ignoring her own.

”You’d be alone too if you hadn’t come, I don’t like that either. Christmas isn’t supposed to be sad.”

It’s not a jab at her, but Wanda feels the urge to apologize for bringing her own problems along even on a vacation. "I'm sorry that I'm not so good at dealing with things. It seems like the others have already moved on from what happened with Ultron, but to me, it feels like it was just yesterday."

Natasha squirms around so that she’s properly facing Wanda. "Hey, it takes time. Sometimes you don't realize it because you keep glancing back instead of looking forward but you might be further ahead than you think."

"I don't think loss is just an obstacle that can be overcome," she says, tracing a pattern on Natasha's shoulder. "Even if we wanted to." Which she doesn't. The sorrow she feels over losing Pietro is proof of how much he meant to her, of what it was like to understand another person so wholly you felt like you were just a half of one being. She wouldn’t give that up for any happiness in the world.

"No, but learning to live with it is." Natasha moves her face close, her nose almost touching Wanda’s. ”And it’s better to be sad together than alone.”

That, if anything, is definitely true. Even now Wanda notices her attention being drawn to Natasha’s lips rather than the negative space inside her own mind. And Pietro wouldn’t mind, in fact, she can almost hear him telling her to _just go for it_. And she will. But first, ”did you really give Clint coins last Christmas? And what the hell is a butterfly cremation garden?”

Natasha laughs at her, eyes sparkling, and drags her into another kiss. There’s no lingering taste of chocolate left, but somehow it’s even sweeter than the first.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Katri Vala's poem _Bridge of Ice_ :
> 
> "You found a bridge across the winter,  
> a brittle ice-wreathed bridge.  
> Step softly, softly.  
> A slender rustle has spread  
> into the silvered forest –  
> it’s the bridge’s covert fracture.
> 
> Steps heavy with grief, you came  
> burdened with the weight of weeping.  
> Not that way, not that way.  
> Step softly, softly,  
> you can pass over.
> 
> With keen eagle eyes,  
> with a tearless, light heart  
> look beyond the mornings  
> at the sun’s thousand-oared quinquereme,  
> as it sails up the river of winter  
> igniting the bridge, the shores  
> in a glorious conflagration."


End file.
